


Look How Far We Have Come

by Chash



Series: I Love the One We Are [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 02:31:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7916947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Clarke's father dies, she decides she wants to use the money he left her to do some good. Fostering older kids seems like a good place to start.</p><p>Her first one would be complicated even if she didn't come with an overprotective older brother trying to get custody back. But it could be worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look How Far We Have Come

**Author's Note:**

> BFF fill for the prompt: Bellamy loses Octavia to the system; Clarke is a first time foster parent who takes her in; Bellamy tracks them down and typical co-parent domesticity ensues!

Almost everyone tells her it's a bad idea. Her mother thinks she's going to get stabbed; her girlfriend thinks it's stupid, and they have such a big fight they actually break up over it. Which she can't really fault Lexa for, because if she doesn't want to be involved, she probably shouldn't stay with Clarke. This matters to her.

Even Wells, who is the person she depends on most to support her, is worried.

"It's just a lot," he says.

"I think it's cool," says Raven. She and Clarke aren't exactly BFFs, given how they met, but she adores Wells, and that goes a long way. "There aren't enough good foster parents in the world."

"See? Finally someone gets it," says Clarke, and they bump fists.

"I think it's cool," Wells protests, probably because Raven said it. "It's just--these are kids, Clarke. A lot of them have probably been in the system for a while."

"I'm asking for older kids specifically. Ten to seventeen," she says.

"Yeah, they've usually been in the system the longest. A lot of them are--"

"LGBT kids," Clarke says. "Kids with medical or psychological issues. Kids who need someone to look out for them."

He softens at that. "I know. And I'm--it's so cool that you're doing this. But you couldn't maybe wait a few years?"

In all honesty, Clarke's not even sure they'll give her a kid. She's twenty-four, unmarried, and now single. Which, okay, depending on how progressive the social workers were, having a girlfriend might not have helped her anyway, but still. She doesn't think she's a good prospect, probably.

But her father died last year and left her a lot of money, and she doesn't want to just leave it in the bank, gathering interest. She's set for life, and she wants to make sure other people are too. She wants to help.

"I'm sure," she tells him. "So why wait?"

*

The girl is scrawny and sullen, all long limbs and sharp angles, her eyes hooded and wary as she regards Clarke. According to the social worker, her name is Octavia Blake, she's fourteen, and she's been in the system for five years.

"She's not older than Bell," says Octavia, to Roan.

"No, but she's much richer," says the social worker, without looking up. "Which is important."

Octavia looks back at her. "How rich are you?"

Clarke shrugs. "Pretty rich. My dad was rich, and he died, so I have a lot of money now. Who's Bell?"

"Bellamy Blake," says Roan, sounding amused. He always sounds amused, in Clarke's experience. He has a perpetual smirk she wants to punch off his face, but in a lowkey, mostly friendly way. He just has that kind of vibe. "Her older brother."

"He's twenty-five and I can still stay with him," Octavia says.

"According to the state, you can't."

"That's because Cage Wallace is a fucking dick." She crosses her arms over her chest. "He takes care of me fine."

"Mr. Blake recently lost his job," says Roan, turning his attention back to Clarke. "Without a steady source of income, the state doesn't feel he can provide care for his sister. If he gets another job--"

"When," Octavia snaps.

"When," Roan agrees, inclining his head. "As a blood relative, he has the right to petition for custody."

"Cool," says Clarke. It seems like a good place to start. "So, once he's set, you'll go back to him. You can stay with me until he's ready."

Octavia gives her a wary look. "Just like that?"

"Just like what?"

"You're going to give me back?"

"I'm fostering you, not stealing you. If I wanted a kid, I'd try to adopt one instead. I figure if you need someone to look after you until your brother gets the state to listen to him, I can do that. That's the kind of thing I thought I'd be doing."

"There is a reason I selected Ms. Griffin for you," Roan adds, dry. "Just give us a minute. Please don't destroy any government property while you're waiting."

"If you don't want me to destroy government property, you shouldn't leave me alone with it," says Octavia, flouncing out, and Roan turns his attention to Clarke.

"I'd say I tried to start you off with an easy case, but there aren't any."

"Yeah, I wasn't expecting one." She considers, but has to ask, "Is the brother into drugs or something?"

"No, he's mostly just unlucky. As she said, he's twenty-five, and their mother died when he was in his sophomore year of college. He dropped out of school to take her, but he's had trouble holding down a steady job. And--" He considers. "Just because they're related doesn't mean she behaves for him either. It's a difficult case. He's local, and he'll want to be--involved."

"Great."

Roan shrugs. "He's not a bad guardian, aside from the money. If he bothers you, let us know. Historically, he does his best to stay on our good side, but it's difficult for him."

She makes herself smile. "Honestly, a little guidance wouldn't be the worst thing."

"No, it wouldn't," he agrees. "If I thought you'd only get a little, I'd feel much better. As I said, if he bothers you, let us know. It's possible to get a court order to--"

"She's his sister," Clarke says, horrified. She doesn't have siblings, but--it's clear his sister cares about him, and it sounds as if he cares about her too. And he wants to get her back. If he seems awful, if they seem destructive--but even that doesn't feel like her call. "He'd have to be really bad, for me to try to get him banned from talking to her."

Roan considers her, and finally says, "The two of them have not been well-served by the system. I've only recently been assigned to their case. Octavia has been through a number of social workers and foster families, both because she objects to them and because her brother objects to them. If my instincts are wrong on this, don't take it to heart. We'll give you an easier one next time." He hands her a piece of paper with a telephone number and the name _Bellamy Blake_ on it. "I assume his sister is passing on your contact information to him now. You deserve to be prepared if he calls."

"Oh good," says Clarke, but she puts the number in immediately, just in case. "Trial by fire?"

"It's all fire," he says, even. "I'm just giving you a straightforward one. Call me if you need anything."

Octavia is on her phone when Clarke goes back out, and she gives the girl a smile. "You ready?"

"Sure."

"Just the one bag?"

"Bell's still got most of my stuff," she says.

Clarke nods, deliberately easy. "Where does he live? Do you want to get it now?"

She has no personal experience with skittish animals, but that's what she thinks of when Octavia watches her, something wild that can't decide if it wants to butt its head against her hand or bite it. 

"No," she finally says. "Bell is at an interview, so he won't be home. He'll bring it later."

"Okay." She unlocks the car and pops the trunk for Octavia's bag. "You want to go grocery shopping or anything? I'm new at this, you already know the drill."

"Yup," says Octavia. She hefts her bag up and then slumps into the seat, the picture of teenage sullenness. "You're trying to be the cool mom, but you're gonna be bad at it. Too uptight. I've seen this one before."

It sounds about right, honestly, and Clarke sighs. "Did you have a better suggestion? I'm open to constructive criticism."

"Just relax."

"I am relaxed," Clarke snaps, because she _was_. Nothing annoys her more than someone telling her to calm down when she's already calm.

"Uh huh."

"I'm expecting to panic later," she says. "Grocery store, yes or no?"

"Sure. I bet you don't have the beer I like."

"I'm more of a cider girl," Clarke shoots back. "Your brother is twenty-five?"

"Yeah."

"That's a pretty big gap. No other siblings?"

"A bunch," says Octavia, but apparently thinks better of it, because she rolls her eyes. "No, just us."

"We don't actually have to talk," Clarke says. "If you don't want to."

"You could talk about you."

"What did you want to know?"

"How rich are you?"

"I don't know, exactly. My dad left me two million dollars."

Octavia stares at her, and Clarke lets herself feel a little bit smug. Not about the money--the money still makes her feel weird. She's always been rich, but not in a personal way. Her family was rich, but she didn't have to manage it. Having her own fortune is still uncomfortable. But shocking Octavia is fun. "Two million?" she asks.

"Around that. There were all these taxes and legal fees and stuff, so that's the amount he left me, but not the amount I got. Not that I'm complaining, just--as a point of order. That was a year ago. I've spent some of it and have the rest in stocks and stuff. And I work, which is enough for me to live off of. So--I don't know my exact net worth right now."

She seems to be thinking it over, her feet up on the dashboard. "Did you buy a lot of stuff?"

"Not a ton. I bought a condo because I wasn't sure I wanted to live here long-term, so a house seemed like a bad idea. I bought the car on installments, so it doesn't take a big chunk out of my savings. I got a cat."

That seems to amuse her. "A cat?"

"My old apartment, I couldn't have pets. My new one I can. So, yeah. I got a cat."

"That's cool."

After a moment's hesitation, Clarke says, "Okay, be honest. How much trouble is your brother going to be?"

"You're more worried about him?" she asks, sounding a little insulted.

"I didn't think you'd tell me how much trouble you'd be."

"That depends on you," Octavia finally decides, and it sounds like an answer to both questions.

"What does your brother do?"

"Whatever he can. Nothing illegal," she adds, quickly. "He'd never give them the excuse to take me away. He was a bartender for a while, but he couldn't make the hours work with taking care of me. He did construction for a while, but he got hurt on the job, and they figured out a loophole to fire him instead of giving him paid time off and workman's comp. That was bad."

"What happened this time?"

"Cutbacks," she says. "The job sucked anyway. His boss was a dick."

"That sucks."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a teacher. Elementary-school art."

"Oh."

"So I'm on break right now too."

"That's really wholesome."

"What, break?"

"No, you're just--you teach elementary school and you feel guilty about being rich so you're adopting under-privileged kids. Do you have milk and cookies waiting for me?"

"I teach elementary school because I like art and don't know if I could be an actual artist," says Clarke. "And I decided I didn't want to go to med school. I don't know how much money I'm going to want for myself later, so I don't want to just give it all to charity right away. Fostering seemed like a good idea."

Octavia's phone starts to buzz, and she glances down at it, picks up instantly. "Hi, Bell. Yeah, I'm with her now. We're going to the grocery store." There's a pause. "Rich. But okay. Yeah, something like that. I'm still working on it. Do you want us to come get the rest of my stuff?" Another pause, longer this time. "Even if you get a job, you know it takes a while. She probably doesn't live anywhere near you. And the temp stuff never works for them until you get hired. So, like--at least four months, right?" She nods along with whatever her brother is saying, and then covers the speaker to ask Clarke, "What grocery store?"

"There's a Trader Joe's on the way, I was just going to go there. I can give you my address and an ETA if he wants to meet us."

"She says you can meet us at her place," Octavia tells the phone. "So she wants to get you out of the way. I think Roan warned her about you."

"Why put off the inevitable?" Clarke asks. "He can just come around 6:30 if he wants dinner."

"Really?" she asks, sounding wary again.

"Do you want to see him?"

"Of course."

"Then, yeah. I figure he's gonna be part of my life for as long as you are, so let's get it over with."

"Six-thirty," Octavia tells her brother, after a minute's contemplation. "Wear a tie."

*

Clarke's condo is pretty modest, compared to the places she grew up. She loves it, because it's clean and bright, with smooth hardwood floors and a lot of natural light, but it's on the small side. Cozy, she likes to think. But looking at it, remembering all Octavia's questions about how rich she is, she can't help thinking that it just feels small in comparison to the places she could have afforded. It's not really _small_ , not like some places are. She has a lot of real estate, and it's not cheap.

So she's a little embarrassed when she opens the door for Octavia. She cleaned everything when Roan said he'd found a kid for her to foster, set up the spare bedroom to take a permanent visitor, and told the cat to be on his best behavior, like this was something that would make any difference to the cat.The place looks nice, but now she thinks it might look _too_ nice. She's really not that neat and tidy. It feels dishonest.

Octavia whistles. "You own this?"

"Yeah."

"How'd your dad get so much money?"

"His family was rich, my mom's family is rich, she's a doctor, he was an engineer. You end up with a lot of money. And since my mom didn't need it, he left it to me."

The cat drags himself off the couch to come investigate Octavia, and she leans down to offer her hand. Eli is a sweetheart, so he just flops over to bask in the attention he feels is his due, making Octavia actually _giggle_.

"What's the cat's name?"

"Eli."

"He's older than I thought."

"Shelter cat. He's six or seven, they guessed."

"You really like this do-gooder thing," Octavia observes, but it sounds less hostile than earlier.

"There are always going to be people buying purebred kittens," she says, shrugging. "I went to the shelter and fell in love." She leans down to scratch the cat's ears herself. "You want to see your room? Get settled in before your brother shows up? The cat will probably follow us."

Octavia follows her through the condo without comment, nodding as Clarke points out the kitchen and the bathroom, her own bedroom, the linen closet. "It's pretty generic," she warns, before she opens the door. "You can put up posters or whatever if you want."

The room is painted blue, with a queen-sized bed and matching wardrobe and shelves. It reminds her a lot of her room growing up, which is part of why she can't help feeling weird. It's nice, but--impersonal. 

"It's fine," says Octavia, sitting down and bouncing a little. "You did a pretty good job. Kind of clinical, but that's good. A lot of people do bunk-beds out of, like, optimism, and that's always weird when it's just me."

Clarke leans against the door, watching her. "How many homes have you been in?"

"A bunch," she says. "I lost count. It took a while for Bell to get on his feet enough that they'd clear him to take me, and one of my old social workers was convinced he was, like--unfit. As a person. It's such bullshit, but--" She shrugs. "Roan's better, but he still can't give me to Bell unless he's been employed for three months."

"That sucks."

Octavia snorts. "It's _stupid_. He'd make it work. But Wallace has a grudge against him, and he's Roan's supervisor now. He doesn't have to be my social worker to fuck with my life."

"At this point, I think your brother is going to have to be a disappointment. I don't know how he'll live up to all this hype."

Her smile is not reassuring. "He'll figure it out."

Clarke leaves Octavia alone to get settled in and goes to try to figure out dinner. She's a decent but fairly limited cook; she can make a few things well, but her range is non-existent. She established that neither Bellamy nor Octavia is a vegetarian, so she got stuff to make spaghetti with meatballs, which feels fairly safe. She even bought salad stuff, which she never does for herself, but she doesn't want Bellamy thinking his sister won't get vitamins. 

It feels a little weird to be so worried about the opinion of someone she's never met, but--she'd like this to go well. She still thinks it's a good idea.

Her intercom buzzes at 6:15, and Clarke wipes her hands on her apron and goes to get him.

Her first impression of the guy hanging out in the lobby is, honestly, that he's really hot. Bellamy Blake--she assumes--has curly black hair and tan skin, enough darker than his sister's that she thinks they must only share one parent. He really is wearing a tie, and a pair of khaki slacks, like maybe he came from a job interview. His white shirt is unbuttoned at the cuffs and rolled up to his elbows, showing off firm forearms. When she meets his eye through the door, she sees he's got glasses and freckles too.

 _Stupid_ hot. Even when he's scowling at her.

She pastes on a smile and opens the door for him. He's got a duffel bag on his shoulder, something Octavia easily could have taken herself, so Clarke assumes this was part of their plan, that Bellamy had her stuff so he had an excuse to stop by wherever she ended up.

"Hi," she says, too bright. "You must be Bellamy."

He looks her up and down, ignoring her extended hand. "Jesus, she's going to eat you alive."

It relaxes her, weirdly, to be so dismissed. He's not going to be polite, so she won't be either. Why bother making a good first impression?

"You guys have a really healthy thing going," she says. "Shit-talking each other. I assume she doesn't go back to you if it doesn't work with me, so why wouldn't you try to be nice to me?"

"You're not sticking around, so why would we bother?" he asks, but it sounds a little less aggressive.

"I don't know, some people don't need a reason for basic levels of politeness and human decency. But it's your life. Come on, it's on the second floor."

"You know you have a doorman?" he asks, as they head up the stairs.

"No, I never noticed. Thanks for pointing it out."

There's a pause, and she bites back on a grin. He definitely wasn't expecting that. "I didn't get your name," he finally settles on.

"That's because when I tried to introduce myself, you were a dick."

Another pause as she unlocks the door. "Yeah, fair enough. I'm Bellamy. O didn't give me your name."

"Clarke."

"Thanks for inviting me. You didn't have to."

"I figured it would be more trouble to try to ignore you." She pauses once they're inside, examining him and trying to ignore how attractive he is. She's pretty sure he's a lot more than a pretty face, but she hasn't decided what yet.

He looks back at her, even, but there's a defensiveness lurking in his eyes, a defiance like he's expecting her to pick a fight, and she doesn't even know which one she'd start.

"You're right," he says. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," she says, and bites back on her smile when confusion flashes across his face. "I don't know how many more times I'm going to have to tell people I don't want to steal your sister today. It's getting old."

He pauses, looks around like he's trying to spot Octavia but she's been in her room basically since Clarke showed it to her. Honestly, she's a little worried she tied the bed sheets together to escape, except it seems like she probably wouldn't have bothered inviting her brother over if she was just going to run away.

"So what do you want? Is this some rich-kid guilt thing?"

"Maybe," she admits. "It seemed like a good idea, okay? My dad died, and it was--there's no good way for your dad to die when you're twenty-three, but it was about as good as it could be for me. He left me a ton of money, my mom is still around, I can take care of myself. And it still felt like I got ripped open. And--I know it's harder for LGBT kids in the system, and I can relate to that too. So I want to help if I can. And I can. But Octavia doesn't need someone to rescue her. She just needs someone to watch her until you can take her back, right?"

He looks unnerved. "Right," he says, like he thinks it's a trap. "This is your first foster kid?"

"Yeah. So if you have actual helpful advice, I'm all ears. Apparently you've been doing this for a while."

"Uh." He rubs the back of his neck, and Clarke tries not to smile. He's still hot, and now he's flustered too, which is adorable. "I'll keep you posted. Kind of depends on how O likes you."

"She's in her room, you can go ask her. I have to finish up food anyway. Second door on your left," she says, gesturing, and Bellamy nods and slouches off to talk to his sister.

She texts Wells, _I think it's going okay_ , and it doesn't even feel like she's lying to him.

The Blakes come back out for dinner, and they look more intimidating together, but generally less aggressive. Bellamy's taken off his tie and button-down shirt, leaving him in a thin white t-shirt that's kind of a lot, but he probably wasn't trying to distract her with the size of his arms, so she can't hold it against him.

"This looks great," he offers. "Thanks for having me."

"Suck up," says Octavia, and he loops his arm around her neck to give her a noogie.

"One of us should be nice."

"Is that a new policy in the last ten minutes?" Clarke asks, and Octavia snickers.

"I'm working on my people skills. I hear it'll work well for jobs."

"Yeah, Octavia said you had an interview?"

"Trying to sign on with a temp agency. Just to give me something to do until I find a real job."

"What kind of real job do you want?" she asks. "And what do you guys want to drink?"

"Milk," says Bellamy. "For both of us."

"Bell--"

"Healthy bones."

"You're such a fucking dork," she says, but adds, "Fine, milk for both of us. I'll have soda when he's not here."

"I don't have any soda. So you're stuck with milk unless you buy your own."

"Do I get an allowance? I think I should get an allowance. I'm gonna have expenses."

"Jesus," says Bellamy, with an amused roll of his eyes. "Did I really raise such a fucking mercenary?"

"Yup. Every penny counts, right? She has pennies to spare, I should get as many as I can."

"I'm still working on the allowance," Clarke admits. "Haven't researched that yet. But we'll work something out. I was gonna google some stuff."

"She's kind of cute," Octavia tells her brother. "The system hasn't broken her yet."

"You don't have to help it," Bellamy says. "Don't steal her credit cards, okay?"

"I'm not going to now you _warned her_ ," Octavia says, but Clarke's pretty sure they're joking around.

"Any other tips you guys have are appreciated," she offers. "Aside from don't let Octavia steal my credit cards."

"It's summer, you've got some time to adjust," says Bellamy. "What do you do?"

"She's a teacher. Bell wants to be a teacher too," Octavia says. "That's what he was studying, when he was in college."

Bellamy looks sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck and not making eye contact. "I was, yeah," he says. "But I could barely afford college the first time, so--that's probably not in the cards. What do you teach, Clarke?"

"Art. Elementary school. What about you?"

"I don't teach." She and Octavia both give him a look, and he sighs. "I wanted to teach high school. History. But, like I said, it's not gonna work out. I'm looking for construction jobs again right now."

"Bell!"

"Those pay well, okay?" he tells her, gruff. "Don't even start, O. I've got experience and I'm not going to get hurt again. It wasn't even that bad last time, except that I lost the fucking job and they got out of paying my bills."

"You didn't think you were gonna get hurt the first time," she grumbles. "You don't have to rush. Clarke can afford to take me for a few months until you find something _good_. She's really rich."

"Yeah, you keep telling me. Stop focusing on material wealth, O. She probably has a really unfulfilling personal life."

"That's a good point. Tell me more about your personal life. Boyfriend?"

"She'd have a girlfriend," Bellamy says.

"I'd have either, thanks," says Clarke. "I'm bi. Currently single." She bites back on her explanation of what happened with Lexa, because it's weird to say she cared about doing this so much she broke up with someone over it. It wasn't personal, had nothing to do with Octavia or Bellamy, but--it's a lot, right? It's way too much. "Not much of a personal life, honestly. I've got my best friend, Wells, his girlfriend Raven, a few college friends I see sometimes."

"So what do you do for fun?" Octavia asks, sounding wary.

"Read, Netflix. Hang out, I guess."

"Are you fostering kids because you don't know how to make friends?"

"O--" 

She rolls her eyes. "You were totally thinking it. It's okay, Bell has, like, one friend. He reads all the time too."

"I work all the time," he says, but then relents. "And, yeah. When I'm not working, I read."

"Well _I_ have tons of friends. Speaking of which, Bell, can I go to a movie?"

"That's not really my call. Clarke's your guardian right now, remember?"

"Clarke?" says Octavia, with big, hopeful eyes.

"What movie?"

"Ghostbusters."

"What time?"

"Forty minutes. My friend Fox is gonna come pick me up. Bell can vouch for Fox, she's a real person. Very trustworthy."

Clarke cocks her head at him, and he shrugs. "I have let her go to the movies with Fox in the past. When would you be home? That's an important question," he tells Clarke. "And you have to hold her to it."

"The movie's at 7:55," says Octavia. "So home by eleven? Maybe eleven-fifteen, if there's traffic."

"I want Fox's number, and her parents' number and address. And I want to meet her. But, yeah, that's fine. I want to gossip with your brother about parenting anyway."

"That was a really good start, though," Octavia says, bright. "You sounded totally hard-assed. I'm impressed. Do you want to give me your phone or do you want me to write stuff down on paper like an old person?"

"Paper's fine," says Clarke. "I don't think I should trust you with my phone. It has personal information on it."

"Such a quick learner," says Octavia. "Okay, I'll give you her number and tell her to say hi. She a crush on Bell anyway, so she won't mind coming up."

"Stop telling me your friends have crushes on me, it's creepy!" he calls as she goes into her room. He gives Clarke a sheepish smile. "Uh, I'm guessing this wasn't what you were expecting."

"I didn't really have expectations," she admits, shrugging. "Is it bad I'm kind of glad she's going on? You can tell me what to do."

"It's weird that you actually consider me a resource," he says. He leans back in his chair, studying her again. It's new, being under so much scrutiny, mostly because she can't tell what he thinks of her at all. Maybe he can't either. Maybe that's why he's watching her like this. "Most of her other foster families didn't want anything to do with me."

"Why not?"

"Fuck, I don't know." He gives her a wry smile. "There were a couple who just thought I was irresponsible, trying to use her for government assistance or something. One thought it was inappropriate how close I was to her and was convinced I was some kind of pervert. A couple really wanted a kid and--I don't know. Those were the ones I felt bad about."

"Bad?"

Octavia comes back in before he can answer, with a list of names and numbers for Fox and her family. At the bottom she's added, _Social security numbers: unknown_ , and Bellamy ruffles her hair.

"You're such a fucking brat."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Depends on if you believe in nature or nurture. I'm saying it's a part of your stunning personality."

Octavia hangs out with them until Fox shows up, and she introduces Clarke as, "The latest foster," which does make her wince a little. She doesn't mind, but--it kind of sucks, how routine it is for Octavia. How many times she's done this.

"Fox gets it," Bellamy says, once they're gone. "She and Octavia met in a foster home right after Mom died. It's not a big deal to her."

"She's in a stable place now?"

"Yeah, they found her grandmother. That's the number you've got. It's good to assume a lot of O's friends don't live with their biological parents. That's how she bonds with people."

"Sorry," she says, and he gives her a smile. It looks almost genuine.

"It's fine. You're doing a good job so far."

"So--what am I in for here?"

"Honestly, I don't know. It's been a rough few years. Teenagers, I guess. She's pissed when she's with me, she's pissed when she's not with me. I think she just wants to feel--I don't know. Maybe I'm just projecting. I figure she's got to be pretty tired of moving every few months."

"Is that what you meant? When you said you felt bad."

"Yeah. Sometimes I think I should just--you can't adopt if anyone in the biological family objects, not without a lot of shit. And I could just--not object. But she never did well enough with any family I even felt good thinking about it. Besides, she's my sister. I can't just abandon her."

"There's probably a happy medium between abandoning her and ruining your life for her."

It's the wrong thing to stay, because tension races up his back. "I'm not ruining my life for her. It's not like I _want_ to be unemployed."

"I didn't mean it like that," she says. "I don't really--this is all new to me. I'm not trying to tell you what to do. Just--if she found a good place, you could think about it."

"I don't even know what she'd want," he admits. "When she's with me, she won't talk to me, but when she's with someone else, all she wants to do is hang out."

"That might just be being a fourteen-year-old girl." She wets her lips. "What happened to your dad?"

"My dad died when I was five. Her dad--I don't know anything about her dad, except that he got our mom pregnant. Even before she died, I was taking care of Octavia most of the time."

"When you were eleven?"

He shrugs. "Someone had to do it. I never really thought I'd get through college, just because--they'd need me. But I didn't think she'd actually _die_."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry about your dad," he says. 

They lapse into silence, and Clarke wonders how long it will be like this, this odd feeling of people who aren't quite guests, aren't quite friends, and aren't quite family living in her home. She's sure she'll get used to it, sooner or later.

"So--where do you fit into this?" she finally asks him.

"Into what?"

"However long it takes you to find a job. I've got Octavia. Where do you fit in?"

"Wherever you want me," he says, which is kind of a bad thing to say. She doesn't think she's ready for another relationship--it's only been four months since she and Lexa broke up--but she's ready to be attracted to him, on a mostly physical level. And a little bit, well--she likes people who care about things, and he cares so much he looks like he can't breathe with it. "You've got custody, until I can prove I'm a responsible adult again," he goes on, oblivious. "You can kick me out if you want."

"I don't," she says, maybe too quickly. "Seriously, you know more about this than I do. It's like training wheels. You teach me what to do with Octavia, and I'll be able to do the next one on my own."

"You really want to keep doing this?"

"So far, yeah. You guys haven't scared me off yet."

He grins at that, and Clarke's heart flips over. "It's been a day. Just give us time."

*

The thing is, it's the opposite of bad. Octavia is a handful, but she and Clarke reach a pretty good understanding fast. Octavia likes to press boundaries, but Clarke doesn't like to set them much. She has a curfew, and Clarke expects to know generally where she's going and when she's expected back, but she doesn't call to check in much or express a huge amount of concern. At first, Bellamy bristles at this, actually shouts at Clarke when he asks her where his sister is and Clarke's only response is, "With Fox, coming back by dinner time."

"She's fourteen, Clarke!"

"Yeah, fourteen," Clarke agrees. "She has a cell phone, she has your number and my number. She's perfectly capable of going out on her own for the day."

"And what if she doesn't come back?"

"If you wanted to stay for dinner to make sure she's alive, all you had to do was ask. You're always welcome." She wets her lips. "If she doesn't come back, it's a problem even if I know exactly where she's supposed to be. And just because she tells me where she's going, it doesn't mean it's true. If you're so worried, call her. But she knows her way around town and she's never not come back before."

"There's a first time for everything," he mutters, but the fight has gone out of him. "I just--I get antsy."

"I know," she says, because she does get it. But she isn't him; his issues aren't her issues. He told her that he lost Octavia once, at a carnival, when she was six and he was seventeen, and he was so sure she'd been kidnapped, or killed.

But she was on the merry-go-round. He remembers the fear that he lost her, but he's forgotten that she was fine, and she came back to him when she was done. 

"What are you even doing here?" she asks, and he flushes and looks away. It makes something bloom inside her. "I don't _mind_ ," she adds. "You're always welcome. But if you need to talk to your sister we can try to track her down."

"Just bored, honestly," he says. His neck is a little red.

"So hang out for dinner. You can critique me on my parenting techniques if she's back late."

"Which of your three meals are you cooking?"

"Shut up."

He grins, elbows her, and her heart swoops, like always. He's not great for her mental equilibrium. "If I'm going to be here anyway, you could try to learn to cook something new. For your edification."

They're in the kitchen when Octavia gets back around five-thirty, and she just shakes her head, says, "You need to get a life, Bell," and goes into her room.

Dinner together becomes something of a routine after that, not on any kind of regular schedule, just every few days, when Bellamy is bored or lonely or whatever motivates him to stop by. His attempts to teach her meet with mixed success; Clarke definitely has a wheelhouse with cooking, and is more comfortable with straightforward recipes with exact amounts than Bellamy's casual, throw a bunch of shit into a pot and see what happens approach. It feels like witchcraft, the way he takes random food and turns it into delicious meals.

After a month, she and Octavia check in with Roan. Octavia sees him more often, and a therapist, but Clarke hasn't had to do anything official yet. If Bellamy wasn't around, she'd probably be more inclined to get in touch with the authorities, but when she has issues, she just calls him. 

And, honestly, there haven't been that many issues. She and Octavia aren't BFFs or anything, and Octavia seems to primarily consider Clarke an animate ATM/vending machine, but they get along all right. They have similar taste in Netflix and Octavia seems grateful for a girl she can talk to about stuff like periods and makeup, someone like an authority, when she doesn't want to ask her friends.

She feels like she's good for them, but tries not to. It feels like a dangerous thought.

"Octavia seems fairly content," Roan says, even.

"From what I can tell."

"It sounds like she sees a lot of her brother."

"He's a better cook than I am." She levels a look at him. "That isn't a problem, is it? He's allowed to see her."

"Of course. How's his employment going? It sounded as if he wasn't having much luck, the last time we spoke." He pauses, but then adds, "We're also speaking less."

"I'll tell him you miss him." She worries her lip. "He's okay. He's temping, but he knows that's not what you guys are looking for." Octavia talked him out of going back to construction, in part because Clarke's place is, apparently, acceptable enough she doesn't mind staying for a few months.

Clarke hasn't figured out how to talk to him about it yet, but she wants to. She wants to tell him to start trying to figure out a _career_. She wants him to let her take care of Octavia so he can finish school, be a teacher. Have the life he actually wants.

Sometimes, she wants to ask him to move in with her, directly into her bedroom, and not worry about getting his sister back. Between the two of them, no one could say they're not a competent guardian.

But even leaving aside the crush awkwardness, she doesn't think she could make the suggestion. Bellamy doesn't like taking things from her. Octavia has no such hangups, happily lets Clarke buy her whatever and then tries to talk her into buying more, but Bellamy bristles, won't even let her get him a coffee at the mall. When he stays for dinner, he insists on giving her money for groceries. He won't let Clarke pay him for Octavia's cell phone bill, even though Clarke pointed out that it's one of Octavia's expenses she should be covering. All it really accomplished was reminding him that Clarke was paying for his sister's things, which he still considers to be his job.

Clarke thinks they could share. Even more than they are now.

"He is, unfortunately, under a lot of scrutiny," Roan agrees. "An employment history like his is--"

"Not his fault," Clarke snaps, and Roan holds up his hands.

"I never said it was. Just that I'm sure it's difficult for him."

"The temping might work out," Clarke says, without much conviction. He could get hired, but the job is boring, and when he comes over after he gets off work, he looks gray and wrung out. Clarke sees him coming back to life in front of her eyes, as she and Octavia make him smile, and she likes that she can help, but she'd rather he was just--already happy. In a good place all the time.

Roan is still watching her, and she makes her face detached.

"We're not here to talk about Bellamy," she tells him.

"I've found it's difficult to discuss one Blake without the other getting involved. And I don't get the impression there's much to say about Octavia. You're doing well. Congratulations."

"Thanks," she says.

After, Bellamy texts, _Did you lose custody yet?_ He's been texting her more, and she tries her best not to read into it. He likes her; that much is certain.

 _Not yet_ , she says. _You're not trying hard enough._

_I'll up my game. I'm getting stuff for dinner, you need anything?_

_I trust your judgement_ , she tells him, and there's a longer pause than usual before he responds again.

_See you soon._

*

School starts, and Octavia gets called into the office in the first month. Clarke gets the call, and then calls Bellamy, who swears creatively but doesn't actually seem surprised.

"I thought it might have been a middle-school thing," he says. He sighs. "I can go in."

"You can't," she says. "Sorry. No legal reason for you to go. I know the principal, kind of, so I'm going in on my lunch break. You shouldn't miss work."

"Yeah, because I really care about this job," he mutters, and then there's a long pause, like he realized what he said. 

Clarke doesn't let him comment on it; she doesn't want him to take it back. "You want the job until you find another one. Unemployment is way less fun when me and Octavia are in school all day. I'll live-tweet the meeting for you."

"Hashtag fuck this noise."

"Basically. Any tips? They said she was still on probation from last year, that's why they're calling so soon."

"Great." He lets out a long breath. "She's a good student, but she has trouble not getting in fights. Which was my issue in school too, so it's not like I can say much."

"I never got into fights."

"Great, teach her your ways."

"I'll do my best. And then you can come over for dinner and do whatever it is you do."

"Nothing good, apparently." He sighs again. "I better get back to work before my boss decides I'm doing drugs in the bathroom. But I'll be over after work. Want anything at CVS?"

"Drugs in the bathroom, really?"

"He has trust issues."

"Don't we all. Can you get orange juice at CVS? We're almost out."

"Sure. Good luck with the principal."

"I'll keep you posted."

Marcus Kane is an old friend of her parents', so he meets with Clarke one-on-one before Octavia gets involved. She hasn't seen him in a while, but he likes her, both because of her parents and because she's an educator herself. He always wants to chat about her life at parties.

The look he gives her now is all pity.

"Your mother said you were thinking about getting involved in fostering. I see they threw you into the deep end."

"Where is she?"

"The nurse's office. A black eye." He pauses. "What happened to her brother?"

"He's at work."

"I expected she would have texted him."

"I guess maybe she did. But I told him I'd handle it."

Marcus's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline so fast that Clarke almost expects it to knock his hair off, cartoon-style. She tries not to smile at the thought. "And he believed you?"

"Apparently I'm doing pretty well with them. What was the fight about?"

"The usual. She's a troubled girl, and she solves problems with her fists. And if she doesn't have problems, she makes them." He considers. "It's good her brother didn't come. They wind each other up."

It's probably true, but Clarke isn't going to agree. Marcus doesn't get to talk about them like he's a part of this, like he gets it. "I'll fill him in later." She considers. "What are we looking at?"

"Detention to start. But expulsion is a possibility. We need to see that she's doing better, and this isn't encouraging."

There's a knock on the door before Clarke can say anything, and when Marcus says, "Come in," his assistant opens the door for Octavia. She's glowering, but her expression clears into confusion when she sees Clarke.

"Where's Bell?" she asks, flopping into the chair next to Clarke, paying her principal no mind at all.

"At work."

There's a pause, but then she says, "But he hates that job."

"It's still a job. If you're trying to get him to quit, I'd just tell him you like me better than him."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "He _never_ quits."

"Well, he's not going to skip work to come to the principal's office," she says. "I told him I had it covered."

"You have _classes_."

Marcus is watching them. "I'm flexible," he says, mild. "I'm willing to work around Clarke's schedule."

"You never worked around Bell's."

"I keep telling you, being rich is awesome. You should try it sometime." She turns her attention back to Marcus, deliberate. "So, what do you need to tell us? How many strikes before she gets expelled?"

"This is my first offense!" Octavia protests. "And they started it."

"Your first offense this year," Marcus says. "At some point, your previous history starts mattering. We try to teach that early."

She gets detention for the rest of the week, and Clarke picks her up on the way home, mostly so they can talk without Bellamy around. All she told him was the verdict, nothing else so far. She's not sure what to tell him, not yet.

Octavia puts her feet up on the dashboard, sullen, and Clarke says, "If you want him to get a better job, just have a conversation about it. They won't even call him until he's your guardian again, so picking fights to get him out of work is a shitty plan."

"I called him," she says, but it sounds more contemplative than offended. "I always call him."

"Well, I called him too."

"Yeah." She pauses. "Thanks."

"What does he usually do when you call?"

"Yell a lot. Get disappointed. Say the other people started it." She pauses. "I didn't do it to get him to leave work. But it wouldn't have been so bad, right? He hates that job."

"Getting fired is never actually good. It makes it harder to get good recommendations." She considers. "Have you ever liked any of his jobs?"

"No."

She reminds herself to breathe. In, out. Even. Calm.

"I never got him fired," she adds, before Clarke can say anything. "That's not--don't make this some bullshit psychology thing. My therapist already tried that."

"You want to do karate or something?" she finally asks.

"What?"

"I did self-defense classes after my dad died. Just because I wanted to have an excuse to punch something. Martial arts seems more your speed."

Octavia still looks distrustful, but she admits, "That might be cool."

"Don't use it on the other kids, though."

"I won't." She's quiet again. "Are you going to tell Bell?"

"He knows." Maybe not consciously, but--he has to know. "Do better, and I won't tell him. And I'll talk to him about the job." She pauses, but adds, "I don't mind keeping you until he finds something good."

"Good. Tell him that." She pauses. "Is karate expensive?"

"Are you worried about taking my money now?"

"No, but--what if I like it and Bell can't afford it after? He'd feel bad."

"You could get a job," Clarke suggests. "And pay for it yourself."

She leans back in the seat, considering. "I guess, yeah. Fourteen's legal to work. I forgot."

"That's why you're not rich like me," she says, and Octavia snorts.

"Yeah, that must be it."

*

She gives herself a week before she has to have the conversation with Bellamy, in part because she needs that time to figure out what the conversation is. It's only been about three months, and it feels too soon for her to have any kind of authority. To make suggestions like, _you should let me keep her_. Or, more accurately, _we should keep each other_. Because that's what she really wants. She doesn't want to do this alone, and she doesn't want Bellamy to get a shitty new job and just--take Octavia and leave her behind.

That's what finally gets her moving: the realization that if she doesn't say something, they're just going to _go_ someday.

Plus, it's Friday, and Octavia is going to a sleepover, which feels like the perfect opportunity to talk to him. Privacy, and the possibility of privacy all night, depending on how far her courage goes.

She probably shouldn't start the conversation with deception, so she texts him, _Your sister is out for the night, but you should still come over._

 _Don't you have other friends?_ he shoots back.

_You said we're friends! I'm going to print off this text and frame it._

_I'm taking that as a no to having other friends._ She waits, and sure enough he adds, _You need anything from CVS? I'm stopping by on my way over._

_AA batteries. Thanks._

She made him a key after only a few weeks, so he lets himself in without knocking, comes in to lean over her shoulder while she makes red sauce.

"Meatballs night," he observes, grinning.

"Shut up, I'm providing for you."

"My hero. Where's O?"

"Harper's birthday sleepover."

"I still think you should have grounded her for the fight," he says, but it's mild. 

"I told her I'd ground her for the next one."

"After you told her you'd buy her fighting lessons."

"Is there a critique in here?" she asks, just as mild as he was. She doesn't think there was.

"I wish I'd thought of it," he admits, soft. "And that I could have afforded it."

"How are you doing with that?" she lets herself ask. "Money."

"The same as ever. I'm getting some savings in while O's out of the apartment."

"But they won't last."

"What good is money if you don't use it?" he says, but there isn't much conviction in it. "I'm doing better than I usually am, Clarke. You actually spend money on her. Lots of the time even when she's with a family, I'm the one paying her allowance."

"I can afford it, Bellamy." She pauses, but she needs to do this sooner or later, "I can afford a lot."

His jaw tenses, and Clarke realizes he's been waiting for this conversation too. "I can take care of her myself."

"I never said you couldn't." She crosses her arms, turns so she can lean against the counter and look at him. "But--and I mean this with love and respect--that's fucking stupid, Bellamy."

He barks out a laugh. "Love and respect?"

"I'm not going to say I get it," she says. "There's no way I get it. I can't imagine living your life, and I don't know how you did it. But--you don't have to do this alone anymore. You could, I know you could, but you don't need to. So why should you?"

"So, what, I just give her to you?" he asks, still more aggressive than she'd like.

"I don't care about the legalities. That's--we don't have to figure those out yet. But--what if you stopped taking the crappiest jobs you could get just because you were worried about where she'd end up?" She swallows down on the want that claws at her throat. This is about him, not her. About Octavia. "What if when something went wrong, you weren't by yourself? You lose your job and--it doesn't matter. Because you guys are here."

"What do you mean _you guys_?" She frowns, but he presses on before she can say anything. "I don't fit into this happy family, Clarke. I'm not--no one's adopting me."

"Of course you do," she says. "I can't do this alone either."

"You can."

"Money isn't everything. And--I don't want to. I don't want Octavia because I love her so much, sorry. Not that--I like her. I want her to have a good life. I want her to finish school and go to college and not get shuffled through a billion foster homes. I want her to be okay. But--I want _you_ to be _happy_."

He stares at her like she hit him, and she feels heat creep up her neck.

"Me?" he finally asks.

"I don't know if you noticed, but I kind of like you," she says, which is an enormous understatement. "I don't like watching you throw yourself at shitty jobs and burn all your cash any more than your sister does." She wets her lips. "I've got too much. You've got too little. It's stupid to ignore that."

"I'm not ignoring it," he says."I can't forget it." He worries his lip. "What am I supposed to do, Clarke? This is what always happens. I know she'd be better off with you, but--if I'm not taking care of my sister, what am I doing?"

"Go back to school," she says.

"You're going to pay my way through college now?" he demands. 

"No, I'm going to pay for your sister's food and clothing and lodging, and you're going to take care of yourself. Put your money towards yourself for a change."

"Because you want me to be happy," he says. He's watching her, and she has no idea what he's seeing. "That's it?"

"That's it."

"And what are you getting out of this?"

"You," she says, without thinking, and then flushes. "That--that wasn't what I meant."

He takes a step toward her. "It's not?"

"I can't cook for myself, so if you--"

He slides one hand behind her neck, tilts her head up and leans in to kiss her. She thinks she might whimper at the first press of his mouth, but she can't be sure; all she knows for certain is that she closes her eyes before he makes contact, and when he tries to move away after just a brief brush of lips, her fingers find the front of his shirt and hold him close.

It's all the encouragement he needs to really kiss her, tangling his hand into her hair and licking into her mouth, pressing her against the counter hard enough she thinks the mark will show on her back for days. Her own hands trail up his chest to wrap around his neck, and it's not until something hot hits her arm that she pulls back, sees the red sauce boiling and popping in its pan before she turns back to Bellamy. He's staring at her, eyes blown and shocked, and she nearly forgets about everything to kiss him again.

But this is important.

"That's not why," she says, insistent.

"Honestly, I have no idea what you mean," he says, smiling a little. "What were we talking about?"

"This isn't--you don't have to--" She steps away from him just so she'll be able to concentrate. "I'm don't want to be your--sugar daddy or something. If you're not--I'm not being nice to your sister to get you."

He laughs at that. "That would be the way to do it."

She turns to the stove, shaky with nerves and adrenaline and desire. He was so fucking _firm_ , and his hands were warm and rough and part of her just wants to forget dinner and drag him to her bed.

But she makes herself say, "I'm serious. I wasn't going to do that."

There's a pause, and then he's behind her, his arms around her waist, his mouth ghosting over her neck, and she feels herself melting into his arms. 

"I'm really glad you did," he offers. "I feel better about this conversation if you're into me."

She has to laugh. "Yeah?"

"Altruism freaks me out. But lust is totally understandable. I'm hot, I don't blame you." She opens her mouth to protest, and he tightens his arms around her. "Seriously, this would have been such a shitty plan if you weren't interested. I don't want to be watching you take care of my sister and wondering if you'd ever go out with me for the next four years." He pauses. "Uh--you want to go out with me, right? You don't just want to make out."

"No," she says. "I basically want you to never leave."

He laughs, kisses her jaw again. "No one's ever tried to use Octavia to get to me before," he teases, and she smiles because she knows he knows better.

"People are idiots," she says. "It was so obvious that was the way to do it. Let go of me or we're not gonna eat."

He does, helps her get dinner ready with the same natural ease they always have. They're a good team, but she can't stop thinking, _he likes me too, he likes me too_ on repeat. Even if he won't agree to taking her help, she's not going to lose him.

Once they're at the table with their food, he hooks his leg around hers and says, "So, what's the version of the plan where we make out?"

"The same, but--you move in with me. Stop paying for your shitty apartment when you could just stay here. It's a total waste of money, if you don't mind sharing a bed with me. Eventually."

He snorts. "Yeah, that sounds like torture."

She prods his foot with hers. "I'm trying to be serious and you just want to make out."

To her surprise, he sobers. "I'm working on it," he admits. "This is--you're not saying anything I haven't been thinking. Fuck, Clarke, all I've wanted for months is--you. This. Me and you and O. I didn't think it could happen. No one gets everything they want tied up with a bow."

"You aren't going to either," she says, careful. "I'm not going to magically fix all your problems. But I want to help. And even if it doesn't work out with us, I'm not going to turn your sister out on the street. Or try to take her away. If you guys stop wanting my help, I stop giving it. But--" She looks down, because she still doesn't know how to let him see how much she wants this. He's not the only one who would be getting a perfect, gift-wrapped future. "I meant it, Bellamy. You don't have to do this alone. I want you to do this with me."

"Yeah," he says, and the word is choked in his throat, a little awed. "Yeah, that's what I want too."

*

Octavia doesn't seem particularly surprised to find Bellamy shirtless on the couch the next morning, with Clarke curled around him. So far this morning they've made breakfast, figured out a plan for Bellamy's immediate future, tried to make out for a couple minutes and ended up having sex on the couch instead, and watched two episodes of 30 Rock on Netflix.

Or, well, had them on. While they made out. The main reason Octavia didn't catch them at it was they weren't so far gone they didn't hear her keys in the door. It's still not particularly subtle, but--their interest in each other probably wasn't either. Octavia would have to be blind not to notice.

Clarke feels a little blind herself, but--the stakes are high, and they've only known each other for a few months.

She's not used to feeling sure like this. It's never happened before, and she still doesn't quite trust it.

"I'm gonna get a less shitty job and take night classes to finish my degree," Bellamy tells his sister, when she sits down next to them with a glass of orange juice.

"Huh. Is Clarke adopting me?"

"I don't think so," Clarke says. "Did you want me to?"

"I don't know. Is it good, like, legally? More secure?"

"We could work on it if you want," she says, glancing at Bellamy. He still looks relaxed, unconcerned, but he's expecting her worry and offers a smile. "But I don't think anyone's going to try to call me an unfit guardian. And I'm not going to try to tell your brother he can't see you. So fostering is probably fine for now."

Octavia snorts. "Like he comes here to see me."

"Maybe if you were home more, I wouldn't have to make out with your guardian," Bellamy says, easy. "I got bored."

"Wow, thanks," says Clarke, and he grins and kisses her, quick. 

"Gotta be honest, right?"

"So you make out with my guardian, go to college, become a teacher?" asks Octavia.

"And you stay in school and don't steal my girlfriend's credit cards."

"But she's got so many!" Octavia protests. "She wouldn't even notice."

"Don't get in fights either."

"God, you're so demanding, Bell. Can't steal, can't fight. It's like you don't even want me to have a social life."

"Yeah, I'm prioritizing food and roof over your head. Like a dick." He clears his throat, and Clarke and Octavia seem to realize at the same time that he's nervous. "You good with this?" he asks. "I know this is a real downgrade from my shitty apartment and being broke all the time."

"When are you moving in?"

"We'll see what's going on when my lease is up."

"You should move here," Octavia says. "I'd be good with that."

He smiles. "Like I said, we'll see."

His lease ends in December, and he moves directly into Clarke's bed. Not that he hadn't already taken up nearly permanent residence there, but--it's nice to have it official.

The next day is, coincidentally, her meeting with Roan, and he tells her she's now the record-holder for fostering Octavia Blake.

"I'm impressed. I wasn't expecting it to go so well for you."

He probably wants her secrets, but Clarke doesn't think she can really recommend her methods as something anyone else should try. So she just smiles. "Yeah, I think we have it figured out."

And they do.


End file.
